Journeys End, Adventures Begin
by Illidasi
Summary: Adventurers from all walks of life, unwilling to face their pasts. They are greatly varied, and none of them perfect, but the stories they weave will affect the world for generations.
1. Prologue

**I own little more than the shirt on my back. So if you think I own SquareEnix's FFXIV, you are crazy. Do not assume that anything I write is canon. At this point little is known about the game or it's world, and I am simply going by my imaginings.**

* * *

Prologue: Sunny Skies

* * *

The sun beat unrelentingly upon the world, baking everything it touched. The bronzed backs of the locals may have been impervious to such torture, but it was enough to bring the stranger to painful consciousness. The first sensation he felt was the gentle warmth of the sun rejuvenating his battered body. The heat quickly passed beyond gentle, and reached uncomfortable, and did not stop there. The man shifted his body slightly in semi-consciousness and the screaming of his cramped muscles, combined with the gritty feel of sand in his cuts, and rubbing against his raw face roused him instantly. He slowly flexed and worked the muscles of his body til the pain was reduced to a manageable level.

Standing, he took stock of the surroundings. He winced as the sun glinted off the waters of the ocean, and hurriedly turned his attentions to more important, and far less painful, surroundings. He was standing on a long strip of beach, running off into the distance in either direction. The sand was coarse, none of that fine stuff rich people had in their hourglasses, and imagined all the worlds beaches to be made up of. There were broken bits of railings, rigging, planks, and all other manner of flotsam scattered along the beach. It took no great amount of reasoning for him to identify them as the remains of the _Galina_, the ship he had been aboard. Not too far away a couple of dark skinned boys were carrying off a slightly frayed bit of rope and a few salvageable bits of wood. An Elezen and a Hyur, neither spared more than a passing glance for him. The stranger didn't pay them much heed either, for before him, just beyond the beach, and spreading over the water itself in some places , was the great storied city of Limsa-Lominsa.

Breathtaking is the best description for Limsa-Lominsa. Huge bridges of impossible design connected skyscrapers, and clusters of smaller, though equally beautiful, buildings. The immensity of it all alone could speak for the city's greatness, but that would be like calling a palace a big house. The city's architecture was reminiscent of the great ships of the past, though only in the most romantic of visions. Spires, shaped like giant masts, pierced the sky, all while mammoth buildings perched, suspended above the water by pillars of intricately carved stone. The buildings were all in varying shades of whites, creams, blues, and grays. If there was a color you could find in the sky or the sea, you could find it upon this city as well. It was said that artists would trade their hands and eyes, the very tools of their livelihood, just to be able to portray Limsa-Lominsa in all its splendor.

The stranger stared at this marvel of civilization for a while before coming back to himself. He did not bother to check himself for any worldly goods. Local urchins would doubtlessly have picked his unconscious body over long ago. He simply grunted and began to trudge up the beach towards the city proper.

He was traveled enough to know that outward beauty means nothing, and all cities are the same at heart. There was no trace of the murderous storm that had brought him to this place just last night, but he knew that sunny skies are just the calm before the storm.

"Reeks of fish," he muttered sourly to himself as he went.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Bearings

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The smell of iodine hung thick in the room, mingling with the sea air. Brother Thomas absently rubbed at his nose as he agonized over the dwindling supplies.

"It's gonna be another tight month for the clinic," he sighed, "if I can still call it that." He payed no attention to his own words, other than to huff slightly. They were old words, well worn and oft repeated. The clinic had been a great public work fifty years ago when it opened it's doors. Part of the Church's "great outreach to the community," it had been built in a poorer section of town. It was great press for the Church at the time, and for a while the clinic had saved many lives that could not afford better care. But repairing a clinic was not newsworthy, and fifty years takes a toll on a building. The little 3 room building creaked and groaned at times, the floorboards were starting to rot, and even the curtains partitioning the main room into separate areas had seen better days. Brother Thomas supposed he should be grateful the clergy still sent over anything, but the the monthly supply rations had been dwindling for years now, and Brother Thomas knew that they were just waiting for him to die before they abandoned the place entirely. He had long since stopped being bitter about it, he was far too old and far too wise to be bothered by the pettiness of the young. He did worry about his part time assistant, and sometime apprentice though.

His reverie was disturbed by the sound of the door opening. He slowly made his way to the door, expecting his assistant to be asking if there was any work to be done. "Sorry lass, there's no work to be had today, small blessing that it is." His soft chuckling cut off as he saw that she was supporting the weight of a shorter than normal and odd looking Elezen. His short hair was damp and dirty, but he thought it was probably a light brown. His ears were short, as if the tips had been cut off, and his face was battered and bruised. The Elezen was dressed in tattered rags, without even shoes, and even more cuts and bruises covered the rest of his body. There were some strips of cloth binding the larger cuts, but they were crudely done. He had the hard musculature of an Elezen warrior, but he was somehow more compact than he should have been. Almost like a Hyur. Sand lightly covered the front of him, more had obviously been brushed away, but Brother Thomas winced, knowing that plenty would have gotten in the wounds. The man's expression was tight. He was in pain, but too proud and stubborn to succumb to it.

"Go get water for the tub lass, I can't do anything for this man while he's so dirty." Thomas led the man, who had not spoken a word, to the old wooden tub in the back room, and sat him on a stool while they waited for the water. Brother Thomas gave the man a quick physical. Underneath all the fresh injuries the man was heavily scarred. His back was quite sunburned, but had very few scars, compared to the rest of him. Brother Thomas then started to question him while prodding parts of his body, when he gasped from a particularly painful prod and slumped into unconsciousness.

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"I'm tellin ya Tom, thas all I know." The sound of a young girl's voice came softly from a great distance. "I was gettin water from the well, and this guy was jus sittin nexta it, dabbin at cuts wit a bit o shirt from a clothesline. Pretty sure the rest o tha shirt was aroun his cuts. Sos I wen up ta him, an asked who he was, if he was alrigh, and so on. He jus kinna mumbled his name. Ink or some such, then he slumped ova an I helped carry him here."

The man's awareness sharpened, and he took stock of his surroundings before he opened his eyes. He was lying down in covered straw, probably a small bed. He fought a wave of panic when he realized his body was restrained, but recovered when he realized it was bandages covering large parts of his body and a blanket that he was slightly tangled up in. The conversation continued while he did this, and he knew there were two speakers with him, a girl at the foot of the bed, and an old man by his left side.

"Don't see many Halfway folk these days, not after the disaster of those continental reforms. Those that survived all fled the cities." The old man mused to himself.

"I heard they made their own city off in who-knows-where! You think he's from there?"

"Possibly, but why would he be out around here? The Halfway that left don't trust us anymore. Anyway, I'm more interested in how he got these injuries."

"They say parts of a shipwreck washed up las nigh. The Galina."

"Yes, that would fit with the wounds well enough, but it makes no sense. The Galina was a diplomatic vessel from the far east. I heard they're all about heredity over there. And if hes from the Halfway city, how would he get on that ship?" The old man gave a sharp prod to the strange Elezen-Hyur man, inviting answers. He had noticed the change in his patient. "Well boy? You don't have the look of a pirate, but if that's what you are-"

"Not a pirate," groaned the man as he opened his eyes, "a knight." The old man was a pale, wizened Elezen, long white hair, wrinkled, grandfatherly face, with an equally grandfatherly tone. He wore old brown robes, from some religious sect, the man thought. The girl was not as childish as he had originally thought. She was a Miqo'Te, and their voices were typically childish. He estimated her to be about sixteen, when he had thought she was twelve at most. She had dark brown hair and fur, with a tanned complexion. She had a simple pair of leather pants and a once green shirt, both of obviously sturdy make, though none too new. "I am a knight of Dondanes, lead nation of the Federation."

"Sorry boy, but we aint important persons, knowing all the world outside our humble continent. Is that where the Galina was from?"

"Yes..."

"Thomas, Brother Thomas"

"Ah, well yes Thomas, the Galina was from the Federation. I was the guard captain of the delegation aboard. I am Captain Inky Indels, of the Royal Guard."

"Inky? Tha a normal name ova there?" The Miqo'Te interjected.

"Mm, no, it's not. As your master here said, the Federation prizes heredity. I'm a nobleman's bastard, and he named me Inconsequential as a joke, the ass."

"It is a sad thing, how the small often find themselves in the seats of the big," said Brother Thomas, shaking his head. After a moment he continued, "Well, enough prying into your matters Captain Indels, you'll be stuck in that bed for a few more days at least, and you'll have a few more scars to show for it, though I doubt a few more or a few less mean anything to you."

The Miqo'Te opened her mouth, but was cut off by Brother Thomas. "No Liny, he needs his rest. And is there anything you need while here Captain?"

Captain Indels thought for a moment before answering, "Liny is it? You look resourceful." He paused, waiting for her nod. "If you could just keep an ear out for word of any other survivors of the Galina, I would be grateful."

Liny nodded briefly before following Brother Thomas out of the partition. A few moments later the door across the room opened, and then closed.

He secretly harbored the hope that Liny would turn up nothing. He settled back into the bed and started reflecting on his situation and options. Captain Inky Indels, once Knight Commander of the Phoenix Royal Guard and champion of the growing movement for status-by-merit, had fallen far and hit hard. His rise to power had been a threat to the nobility, and they had neatly gotten rid of him. Maneuvering him until he had no choice but to accept the "great honor" of protecting the diplomatic party, headed by one of the most pampered, snobbish, and ill natured princesses in the Federation, he had been forced to hand temporary command over to his second. A good man, but one who the nobles could easily manipulate. The princess was from a minor kingdom of no great value, but he had been placed under her, and she had made good use of the opportunity to degrade the "uppity" Halfway. That itself was nothing too new, and was an understandable, if unusual, assignment for the Knight Commander, but for the phrase, "for the foreseeable future," which meant this assignment was permanent. He had been effectively exiled from the Federation. He had dreaded the months he would spend with the princess before she was switched out with a different royal envoy, but knowing the long memories of courtiers, the next one would be no better. If no other survivors turned up, he reasoned, there would be nothing stopping him from going his own way, and seeking his fortune in this new land. He would be able to hide his traces, and dissapear into the vastness of this new continent long before the next Federation envoy showed up. His planning was interrupted by a sudden wash of guilt over his blatent disregard for orders, and abandonment of loyalties, but he just as quickly quelled such thoughts with the cold knowledge that Dondanes and the Federation had been the ones to abandon him

"Besides," he thought to himself, "life may be short, but the journey is long. Perhaps I'll even return to Dondanes and the Federation someday. And this is all just supposing the princess and her coterie don't show their faces."

But still, he secretly harbored the hope that Liny would turn up nothing.


End file.
